Jackpot
by Hope Shalott
Summary: Daken finds himself intrigued by a stranger who seems somewhat familiar.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to their rightful owners (not me) I am not making any profit off this story.

**Characters:** Daken/Kitty Pryde/Assorted extras

**Timeline:** No strict timeline. Set after DW#82. Anyone can pop up anywhere.

**Rating:** Adult

**Warnings:** Anything can happen

**Length:** Multi

**Archiving:** Yes but please credit, paste the story in full including disclaimers and authors notes and please tell me where.

_..._

_Jackpot_

_Chapter One_

_..._

_Never show your hand to your opponent. _

Daken has never understood that saying better than he does now. Sometimes he delights in doing just that. There's nothing like letting them know what he has in store and seeing their faces when they realise they can't do fuck all about it. It's a treasure.

But every man, however great and strong, has to have a little something for himself.

If he cared just a little more, he could kill Karla. It had taken him a while to find a place where he felt comfortable, _at ease_, and now he is stuck trawling back alleys and low rent parts of town all to get a good cup of tea.

This one in particular isn't anything noteworthy but the subtle lighting, which is due more to cheap light bulbs than any attempt at atmosphere, adds a certain ambience that he has yet to find replicated anywhere else. Sometimes, you just hit the jackpot without even trying.

There's a few cheap paper lanterns scattered around and an incense burner floods the air with the chemical scent of manufactured orchids. It's lazy and done simply so the owners can claim themselves as a Japanese tea house. That's what the sign says at least, but Daken has visited too many authentic tea houses to buy into the cheap attempt to cash in on his culture.

"Customer!" A waitress screams.

Tatami mats give way to western style tables and he can actually see a few people eating with knives and forks. It makes him want to shake his head and mutter about the good old days like the old man he is. It's quite disrespectful, but not enough so that it stops him from shaking the rain off his coat and taking a seat. If he took offence at the little things like that, the world would be empty by now.

Even the strongest human instinct is weak. A quick scan of the room shows that his presence hasn't so much as rippled the water. There are but a few handful of people, all going about their business and all unaware that he is a predator who has them in his sight lines. In the company of his own people, his appearance would be met with caution and a wary eye. _Trust no one and assume nothing. _

"Customer!" The woman screams again followed by a flurry of angry Japanese. She marches off into the kitchen, unperturbed by the fact that paying customers are watching her. After a moments gawking, they go back to their business.

There's an old man muttering to himself about a childhood in Hokkaido (a place Daken remembers as too cold) and a hypocrite lecturing her daughter on the evils of American culture. Over in the far corner, in the place he would really like to sit, is a mass of loose brown curls, hunched over a book.

After far too long, a young Japanese woman brings over a pot of tea.

"10% off, for your waiting. Tea only." She introduces herself as the owner and he's torn between admiring her astuteness (_give the peasants what they want, indeed_) and wanting to bash her head against the table. He settles for a disarming smile and politely declines when she suggests ordering the special. He's not terribly picky with his food but he does prefer to eat it sans cockroach and rat droppings.

"It's okay, you know. They've only been closed down twice." The statement is closed with a sarcastic chuckle.

The speaker is the young girl from a few tables over. She is eyeing him with some curiosity and a guarded smile. She's not Asian but there's an exotic tilt to her eyes and a delicate quality to her features that reminds him of home. Either way, she's no striking beauty.

When he doesn't respond, she rolls her eyes slightly and drops her gaze back down to her book. There's something so terribly familiar in how she sets her jaw and he wonders if they've met before. After a moment's pause, he stands and gestures to the waitress that he's moving tables. Her answer is a lazy shrug.

The girl looks up at him as he seats himself at her table. Whatever her motivation for addressing him, she certainly wasn't expecting this. To be quite frank, she doesn't seem entirely happy about it either. Daken is rarely intrigued, if often insulted, and he finds himself both offended and fascinated at her clear unhappiness.

He latches on to a few tendrils of emotion, finding only wariness, confusion and that ever present wonder. "Curiosity killed the cat," he says vaguely at her questioning glance. He throws in a smirk that he knows is charming. A flicker of shock crosses her face and her wariness pulls tighter.

"Do I know you?" she asks, leaning forward as though a closer glance may reveal the answer. Daken finds himself thoroughly confused at her reaction, even more so at the edge of bravado that has entered her expression.

"I'm almost certain you don't," he says, though he can't be completely sure. It bothers him. He_ never _forgets a face.

"Right," she says, without much conviction. She leans back in her chair and clasps her cup tight. He studies the tilt of her wrist, a perfect arch for sword wielding and suddenly his interest piques higher. "Well, did you want something?" She asks, injecting enough indignation into her voice that if he were a weaker man, he might flee.

He shrugs. "Company."

She reads his answer wrong and gives a less than elegant snort. "Yeah, well. I'm not really in the mood for 'company' tonight so maybe I'll see you around. Maybe," she adds for good measure, just in case he hasn't already got the message.

He could just laugh at her hubris but he doesn't. It's too soon to test the waters and he's quite sure she's used to getting her own way. The suggestion that he could have her on her back and begging for more until she forgets her own name probably wouldn't go down too well. Neither would she if that plain little face is anything to go by.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart," he says, as kindly as is possible considering the words. She blinks and he can almost see her pride wilting slightly. She's spoilt, that's what he thinks. She's not used to hearing the word '_no_'.

He smiles warmly before she can tell him to fuck off. "You seemed a little troubled. I just thought you might like a friendly ear."

Another snort, and she speaks into her cup. "Not many of those around these days." Her attention is fixed on the table and Daken allows himself a wicked smile.

"Isn't that the truth."

She looks up sharply, some sense of caution flaring in brown eyes, only a half shade lighter than his own and still so dark you can barely see the pupil. He can't pinpoint the motivation for that look she's giving him. Maybe she heard something in his voice. He makes a note to be a little more careful. Some of her kind can be more perceptive than they look.

She tips her cup and grimaces. Gesturing the server towards them, she places an order in fluent Japanese and also asks after 'Yuki's' family. For a split second, Daken feels almost out of his depth with this one. He had her pegged as the standard Japanophile that usually infest places like this; someone who latches onto his culture while knowing very little about it. It's almost enough to worry him. _Almost_.

"Have you been to Japan, or just studied the language?" He asks. His tone is conversational, not at all showcasing his curiosity. She looks worried for a moment and he can see the thought process behind her eyes as she tries to find an answer.

"I lived in Tokyo for a while. My dad worked there."

A few things give away the lie. First of all, she can barely look at him. She clenches and unclenches her hands as she lies. But the biggest tell is her accent when she speaks Japanese. At a guess, he would peg it as Honshu., Kyoto to be specific, but he doesn't call her bluff. He nods and mutters something about it all being very interesting, which it is, of course...but not for the reason she thinks.

"What about you?" She asks. "You don't sound American."

He shrugs and thinks that the truth can't hurt. "I moved around a lot. Mostly Europe."

"Cool, you ever been to London?" Her smile is a little brighter, a little less guarded.

He nods. "Many times."

Her smile falters and she seems lost in thought for a moment. When she speaks, it is with an attempt to hide whatever it is she's feeling and the affected cheerfulness seems forced. "I had a...friend from England once. We used to travel down to London quite a bit."

He hears a catch in her throat and resolves to get up and leave without a word if she starts crying. He finds women and their never ending emotions utterly pathetic. Instead she shrugs and gives a sad smile. "Whatever. It doesn't matter now anyway."

She runs a hand through her hair and drops her arm onto the table. Daken gives in to his curiosity and decides to dig a little deeper. Before long, he is feeling pain and desire and anger and hopelessness all in one sharp burst of emotion. She's antsy and she feels trapped and restless and she needs to escape but something is holding her back, then he cuts off because he simply can't take it anymore.

It affects her too and she seems to almost deflate as he pulls away from her. His exploration has done nothing but bring up more questions. What is she running from? What does she want? There's a lot of honour in her. A lot of strength that seems at odds with her youthful, and somewhat naïve, appearance. She has him completely fascinated and he almost wants to eradicate her for the fact.

Her hand is still resting on the table and he watches as she clenches and unclenches her hand in a comforting gesture. _Like a kitten_, he thinks and then it all clicks. That action falls into place with the set of her jaw and the way she draws her eyebrows when she's confused. An impression left by someone who has raised her or taught her from a young age. An overwhelming sense of honour that is almost an imprint.

And a rumour, heard through the grapevine, that his father once mentored a young girl. Sitting here in front of him, his input clearly shows.

"Hmm," he says. What a small world it is, but then sometimes you just hit the jackpot without even trying.

...


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to their rightful owners (not me) I am not making any profit off this story.

**Characters:** Daken/Kitty Pryde/Assorted extras

**Timeline:** No strict timeline. Set after DW#82. Anyone can pop up anywhere.

**Rating:** Adult

**Warnings:** Anything can happen

**Length:** Multi

**Archiving:** Yes but please credit, paste the story in full including disclaimers and authors notes and please tell me where.

_..._

_Jackpot_

_Chapter Two_

_..._

Daken heard of Domino first. How the big bad Wolverine had dragged her to her feet from the lowest pit of degradation. He brushed her off and brushed her hair and waited until she'd at least hit her twenties before he fucked her for the first time. There's always been rumours about Wolverine and his_ girls. _Both him and the Romanoff girl deny that it ever went _there_ but let's be honest, who wouldn't fuck the Widow?

Even now there's mutterings of, "That ain't right, hanging around with teenage girls all the time. Somethin' going on there!"

They don't get it. Daken gets it, even if he doesn't understand it. Women have always been his father's weakness. Daken has never had that problem. Romulus used to say that the only talent a women possesses lies between her legs. Daken isn't that short sighted but he tends to agree.

Katherine should be at home, doing whatever it is teenage girls do nowadays. Back when he was young, they learned to sew, cook, dance. They learned whatever it took to make a man happy. A smart mouth was kept in check with a hard fist. Spirit could be quickly diminished with the whip of a belt buckle. Sometimes he misses the good old days when everybody knew their place.

"Hello again," he says, taking a seat. The tea house is pretty much empty tonight. Katherine looks up at him, surprise evident in her eyes.

"Uh, hey."

He wonders if she's stupid enough to believe this is a coincidence.

"What a coincidence."

_Apparently so._

He shrugs. "Not really. I've become quite fond of this place." It's close to the truth. The tea is good. He gestures to her book. "What are you reading?"

She holds it up so he can see the cover. _Call of the Wild by Jack London. _There's a picture of a dog standing in a snowy forest. "I read it every year. It's one of my favorites," she says.

"Mine too," he replies in a rare moment of honesty. It was the first book Romulus ever gave him. He can still remember it now, bound in brand new leather and stored in a velvet pouch. It speaks to him, though he has little to no idea what the attraction must be for her besides the normal female devotion to cute fluffy animals. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

She just stares at him for a moment. From the look on her face, she really wouldn't but luckily for him she's been conditioned to be both polite and accommodating which will be lots of fun in the long run.

She turns her head towards the door and states the obvious. "Uh, it's raining."

He bites back a caustic reply. Not only has he just come in from the rain but it's quite _fucking_ obvious, even to pithy human ears, that it is blowing a gale out there. If you could kill people for simply being stupid, this girl wouldn't have made it past childhood. He gives her a smile and turns on the charm.

"I can see that," he says with a tease of a laugh. "Or are you one of those girls who are afraid of getting their hair wet?" He leans forward a little and raises his eyebrows. He's not using his powers on her yet but he will if he has to.

She shrugs and her mouth tightens into a smile. "My book will get wet."

_Oh, for fucks sake._ "I'm sure Yuki would be more than happy to mind it for you. And you have my word that if anything should happen, I'll personally buy you a new copy." His mouth is beginning to ache from smiling and if she tries one more stupid excuse, he certainly won't be held accountable for slaughtering her like a pig.

She looks down at the book in her hand and he wonders who gave it to her and what it means to her. After keeping him hanging for a moment, she lowers her gaze and nods. "Okay, I guess so."

…...

It's only when they're outside that he realises how small she is. He is barely average height but he towers over her. "Beautiful night," he lies.

She tips her head and looks at the sky blandly, muttering 'yeah' after a long bitter moment of reflection.

"You don't like the stars?" He asks, teasing her a little. "They're usually so hard to see in the city but look how many there are tonight!"

She bites her lip and her eyes dart rapidly, looking for an escape route from this conversation. "Yeah, you could get lost in them."

Daken thinks there might be a story behind her dull tone and blank expression. He moves a little closer towards her, hands still in pockets and she lets him walk beside her for a moment before subtly sidestepping the moment an obstacle comes between them. She's not impolite, that's the problem, but it also makes her insincere. He likes to hold his cards close to his chest but it bothers him when others do the same.

"Have you ever read Romeo and Juliet? The star crossed lovers!" He adds with a flourish.

"More like an epic tragedy."

Her sarcasm knocks him out of place for a moment. It leaves him feeling like a idealist trying to convince a cynic when it should be the other way around.

He pauses for a moment and remembers that sometimes, the best way to find something out it simply to ask. "You don't like romance?"

Kitty laughs a little and shakes her head. "I like romance just fine it's just...they die in the end!"

Daken smiles. He knows he's being unfair expecting her to understand it but he doesn't care. "They do, but that's the romantic part."

"Then you have a warped idea of romance, dude." Effectively ending the conversation, she picks up her pace a little and they walk in silence for a block and a half until eventually, he gets fed up of not speaking.

"So," he starts, gaze in front of him. He walks with slow, long strides. "You still haven't told me your name."

"You haven't told me yours either."

Hmm, so the little bitch is playing hard to get._ "_Daken," he says smiling down at her and mentally kicking himself because he can't be sure that his father hasn't told her about him. He watches her closely for a reaction but she only wrinkles her nose.

"Daken...like a mongrel dog?"

He laughs. "Well, that depends on who you ask, I suppose."

She laughs at that. A short, sharp laugh but it's something at least. "My name is Kitty."

He manages to hide a grimace. He still can't help but be a little disgusted by that one. Kitty is the internet user name of a four year old Japanese girl or a strung out stripper. He likes Katherine better. Much more elegant. Katherine is the name of queens. He refuses to call anybody who isn't five years old _Kitty._ "How...cute." He tries to keep his voice level but something must seep through because she narrows her eyes at him.

"Yeah, keep mocking, dog boy."

And he has to laugh at that. He admires her brass at least, though if she really offends him he'll kill her for it. "How about we call a truce?" He stops and hold out his palm. She stares at it for a moment before taking it. Her hand is small, dainty and cold and disappears within his much larger one. Her fingers are long and decorated with cheap fashion jewellery.

"Fine...truce," she says though he's not focusing too much on her words. You can tell a lot about a person by the strength of their handshake. Hers tells him that she's stronger than she looks, that she holds a surprising amount of upper body strength and that she has some experience wielding a sword. Her palm is slightly calloused at the outer edges but the space between her finger and thumb is soft, unblemished by the pressure of a hand guard. It pegs her as someone who attacks better than she defends.

"Are you hungry, Kitty?" He curls his tongue around the word until it sounds like the most beautiful compliment ever paid and she smiles because she actually does believe he is trying to make amends.

"A little. I was just about to order something when you walked in actually."

"Then let's get you fed."

He buys her spicy noodles and a coke and they sit on a park bench to eat. He's makes up a childhood in Nagasaki and drones on about that for a bit until he feels he's done enough talking. It's her turn to strike up a conversation. She doesn't. Either she's particularly shy (unlikely), particularly stupid (a possibility) or not particularly interested in knowing anything about him (which he _refuses_ to believe)

He wonders if this is actually worth it and then wonders exactly what it is he's doing. He doesn't have a plan as of yet. He knows better than that. You only form a plan when you know exactly what materials you have to work with. The fact that his plans always work out hasn't made him stupid or complacent.

Katherine doesn't notice his reflections. She shovels noodles into her mouth, handling chopsticks like she's been using them most of her life. Her fingers work quickly and deftly.

"How old were you when you moved to Japan?" He asks, genuinely interested in the answer. Katherine's hands still and even with her looking straight ahead he can see the panic written right across her features.

"Uh...,"

"Young?" He cuts in. The last thing he wants is to put her on the spot. He already knows he's not going to get a full read of her based on two conversations alone. Scaring her off wont get him anywhere.

She lets out an almost inaudible breath. "Yeah, pretty young."

He studies her features. Her colouring is only about a shade lighter than his. There is a hint of cheekbone giving way to round cheeks. Her lips are full though the bottom one a little more so. It makes her look sulky. Petulant.

"Do you have family there?" He asks pleasantly.

Her eyes are still fixed on a distant spot in front of her. "No."

"Did you live there for long?"

Perhaps it's the endless question or maybe this question in particular just gets to her because she swallows hard, closes her eyes and then drops her head to study the hands that are clawing at her jeans. "No, not for long. Felt like a lifetime though," she inexplicably mutters as an afterthought.

Daken decides to lay it on the line. Sometimes people just need to be pushed. Pushed or beaten into submission. "It's very hard to have a conversation with you, Kitty. Sometimes, I wonder if you're even present."

From the corner of his eye, he can see her head whip round and she's glaring at him. He likes that. . Emotion is something real, something solid. He can work wonders with only the tiniest flicker of emotion.

His honesty has rendered her speechless and when he turns to face her, he can see her searching for something to say. A weapon to throw back at him. She thought her evasiveness was smart but it's told him everything he needs to know about her. "You don't seem very happy. You don't seem all there."

"What do you _want_?" Her question starts off firm but her voice wavers desperately on the last word. Her eyes leave his face and look everywhere but. "I go to the tea house to be alone but it all just follows me. I'm so sick of everybody pretending to be nice to me."

Daken snorts. "Very melodramatic. If they gave awards you'd be a shoe in."

The look his comment earns is one of wide-eyed shock and confusion and hurt, just a little bit below the surface but it's there. Within a second, it has turned and the mask slips firmly into place. She stands, shoulders back, lip curled into a snarl that would have his father beaming with pride. "Do you really believe that I care about what you think of me?"

The proud, disregarding look she gives Daken infuriates him. He stands, taking away her ability to literally look down on him and steps forward but she holds her ground. There's not a flicker of fear between them. Daken knows that he holds the upper hand but her expression is a mirror image of his own at the moment and then she does it. Her eyes leave his face and travel up his body from the tip of his toes and when her gaze meets his again, there is nothing there but unimpressed disapproval. "Don't flatter _yourself_, sweetheart."

He watches her walk away and fights a desperate fight not to pop his claws and gut her. Fucking bitch! She stole his line...and that really pisses him off.

...


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to their rightful owners (not me) I am not making any profit off this story.

**Characters:** Daken/Kitty Pryde/Assorted extras

**Timeline:** No strict timeline. Set after DW#82. Anyone can pop up anywhere.

**Rating:** Adult

**Warnings:** Anything can happen

**Length:** Multi

**Archiving:** Yes but please credit, paste the story in full including disclaimers and authors notes and please tell me where.

...

_Jackpot_

_Chapter Three_

_..._

Daken has hated his father since the second he found out about his existence and even if he wasn't his father he would despise him still. There is no culture and no sophistication in that man. Calling him an animal is giving him too much credit because some animals can be majestic. No, Logan is worse than an animal. He's _human_ through and through.

He cares. He loves. Daken could massacre a kindergarten class and Logan would still love him. That he's raised such a brat shouldn't be surprising. He wonders what would have happened if he had disembowelled Katherine in the street, left her bleeding in the middle of a panicking crowd?

Would Logan still love him then?

Tracking the girl down is hard. According to the government, Katherine Pryde and all abbreviations simply don't exist. He's tried local law enforcement, schools, prisons; he's even done a national search and still found fuck all. So he switches tracks. He tries to dig up some information on the little Chinese girl; his father's other pet project, and finds nothing besides an outdated, half buried juvie record. It's not easy, or cheap, to disappear so efficiently. Clearly his father has invested a little more than basic training into these kids.

He strikes gold with an old contact who burned his bridges with the Wolverine back in '84. Now that he has a name he can really get the ball rolling.

…...

"Off the record?"

Daken pours a glass of whisky and slides it over towards his new 'friend' "Of course."

The boy, your typical wide eyed rookie, downs the drink. "Why do you want to know about her anyway?"

Daken takes a slow sip of his own drink. It burns as it slips down the back of his throat. He's never been much of a whisky drinker. "Recruitment."

The boy nods as though that's a perfectly acceptable reason for breaking protocol and covers his mouth as he belches. "A guy I trained with had a thing for her. She started her basic training just as I finished mine so our paths didn't cross much but I heard of her. We all did." He finishes bitterly.

"Basic training? I thought you said she was just bought on as a communications advisor?"

The boy nods and downs another shot."She was, but everyone has to go through basic. They teach you some self defense but it's mostly about the protocols and procedures."

Daken smiles encouragingly. "Hmm. You don't sound too fond of her."

The boy laughs but there nothing jovial about it. "We busted our balls for three years and weren't even allowed to step over the threshold without supervision. She comes in and a few _weeks_ later she's given top level clearance and accessing classified files. Fury gave her full run of the place."

_Interesting._ Daken amps up the kid's emotions and tries to sound similarly confused and disgusted when he asks; "And why would he do that?"

He downs another shot and shrugs. Between the drink and Daken's manipulations his eyes are beginning to glaze over. "Dunno for sure. Heard a stupid rumor once though that Fury bought her in from the X Men." He laughs derisively. "I mean, have you seen the girl?" He pauses thoughtfully. "There was this uh, incident. I think that's why she was recruited in the first place because she left not long after that."

The way his voice darkens has Daken's interest piqued. "What do you mean 'incident' ?"

The boy shakes his head and draws his eyebrows, like somebody who is about to tell a story he doesn't quite believe. "I dunno. The computer systems just started going haywire one day and within a few hours, Pryde was sitting in on advanced telecommunications classes and calling Fury on his private line. Do you have any idea how many applications S.H.I.E.L.D get each month? We have some of the best technicians in the world but the Colonel was certain that we had to bring _her_ in." He turns and looks at Daken, eyes wide with confusion.

"Official diagnostic was that the systems had been taken down by the Chinese but that was a lie. I was there. The computers had been _possessed_." His words trail off in a whisper.

"Possessed?" Now it's Daken's turn to be confused. He wonders if between the pheromones and the drink, he's pushed the boy into a psychotic episode.

Rookie seems to be getting a little fired up now. He rocks in his seat a little as he waves his hands around emphatically. "Yeah! And the ghost seemed to know Pryde. Talked about her being special, an acolyte or something like that. It was fucking weird!"

Daken leans over the bar and bears his teeth in a parody of a smile. "Tell me what happened next."

The boy rubs his temples and shakes his head still mumbling to himself. "I don't know what happened after that. They were in there for so long and when they came out, Pryde looked like shit. She looked like she was about ready to drop. And Fall-uh, the guy I was telling you about...he couldn't even look at her." He rests his head in his hands and grumbles low in his throat. "Fuck! I'm gonna be so fucking hungover tomorrow."

Daken smiles and bends low to whisper in his ear. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm going to take care of that." Can't have him sobering up and confessing his serious breech of protocol to his superiors now, can he?

…...

It was always inevitable that Daken would have a run in with the X Men at one point or another. Their politically correct no kill policy is utterly absurd to Daken but what he knows about the X Men wouldn't fill a piece of paper and that is why he isn't so quick to write them off.

As far as anyone knows, Summers little collective is nothing more than an extremist paramilitary group with bad fashion sense. A simple case of disillusioned ex-military goons who have realised that wiping whole villages off the map isn't _good_. He knows he can dig for years, ask a thousand people and come away with only a scrap of mixed information about the X Men so they must be doing something right.

Katherine isn't an X Man. He'd bet his last dollar on it. There is nothing about that girl that screams philosophical angst. Weary, yes. Jaded, maybe but nothing deeper than that.

"Scheming again?"

Daken ignores her and goes back to scrubbing blood from under his fingernails. She watches as it swirls down the kitchen sink.

"Disgusting," she snipes. "We have en suites for a reason."

"Of course not, sweetheart," he says, ignoring her latter remark and not even trying to hide the lie. She's an old mark, one he never even bothered to fuck, though judging by the way she tilts her hips and practically pushes her tits into his face, the option is still open to him if he wants it.

He doesn't.

He has seen Karla in battle only a handful of times. She's good, for a woman, but that's still not good enough. Her power, like most bitches, lies in her ability to manipulate and seduce. To a man like Daken, who is better than her at both, she's as weak as a newborn kitten. He smiles to himself as he thinks about that one.

"What do you know about the X Men?"

Karla likes to think of herself as a perfect example of what men want. The archetypal blonde bombshell. She forgets that there were many other before her and there will be a lot more when she's long dead. Hell, he could walk down to Hunts Point and find a handful like her right now. It never crosses her mind that when she scrunches up her beak nose and puckers her thin little lips, like she's doing right now, that she looks thoroughly unattractive. "Do _not_ tell me that you've bought the X Men down on us. That's all we need right now."

Her reaction tells him everything.

"No. I haven't. Call it simple curiosity." He grins and leans a little closer, mouth inching towards hers before he roughly pushes her out of the way and switches on the coffee pot. "So, are they really worth worrying about?"

Karla's glare disappears as she considers her answer. "They're pests. Incredibly durable pests. Like roaches. I've never really had a run in with them," she turns to face him head on and folds her arms like a strict schoolmarm. "But I do know that if you piss one of them off, a dozen more will come crawling out of the woodwork and considering the fact that Osborne has us working around the clock right now, I really don't fancy fighting the X Men on top of that so whatever you've done, take care of it and do it quickly."

…...

Lester is watching snuff on the HD TV when Daken walks into the rec room. He floods the room with precautionary dose of pheromones as Lester turns and snarls at him. After a second and a flicker of confusion, he turns back to the TV.

"What one is this? Debbie gets gang raped?"

Lester ignores him. His dysfunctional personality offers him a little protection against Daken's powers. It's hard to twist something that's already so twisted but luckily enough, Daken likes the slow burn sometimes. He perches on the arm of the sofa, forcing Lester to move his arm in a hurry. He tucks his hand between his legs and realising the implication, quickly jerks it onto his knee. Daken chuckles.

Bullseye fixes him with a dark look and he does it very well. As far as psychopaths go, Lester is the most obvious kind. "What the fuck do you want, fag?"

Daken shrugs lazily in a way that he knows will just irritate. "Just a chat, sweetheart."

They both fall into silence as the unlucky starlet's screams pick up volume. More than likely a runaway who caught a bus to Hollywood to try and get on TV. Well, she got her wish anyway. Lester's hand twitches and his breathing picks up a notch. Just as he's about to cum in his pants, Daken jerks his attention away from the TV.

"Have you ever had a run in with the X Men?"

Lester's mouth twists into a snarl as the moment fades. "Fuck you, you fucking homo"

"If you like." Daken smiles properly now. A wide, beaming grin. It's so easy sometimes. If Lester realised how easy it was he'd probably take a razor to his wrists again. Nobody likes being pathetic. "It wouldn't surprise me, with your charming personality and extra circular activities, if you had been metaphorically ass fucked by them a few times at least."

With a grumble, Lester deflates and slumps back into the sofa. "I'll leave the ass fucking to you, you fucking hermaphrodite."

Tormenting Lester is one of Daken's favorite past times. "My, I didn't realise you knew such big words, Lester. What a clever boy you are."

"Why do you want to know about the X Men anyway?" He spits. "Did you fuck up, huh? Osborne is gonna love you, douchebag." His laugh is rough and snarled. "The X Men are a bunch of fucking pansies. In fact, you should join them. Yeah, go join Daddy's team and prance around in tights. That'd suit a fairy like you."

Daken feels a spike of anger at the mention of his father but he lets it pass. "No thank you. I like it right here." He pats Lester's knee causing him to shift uncomfortably and dodges the punch aimed his way.

Truth be told, getting information from Lester was a long shot. The X Men are superheroes, all epic adventures and taking down the kind of villains that plot world domination with a fluffy white cat beside them. Lester is the kind of psycho you'd find on the FBI's Most Wanted list. He's still no closer than when he started.

Daken doesn't like having to play it by ear. He prefers to know _exactly_ what he's dealing with but some things can't be helped. He'll just have to do what he's always done and adapt.

…...

"Do you understand what you have to do?"

The man nods, excitement glinting in his eyes. He probably can't wait to get out of there and start painting his placard. "Yeah, you don't gotta worry. Me and my men are sick of these muties coming here, stealing our jobs. Seducing our daughters," he says. The woman he point to is an obese young cow who wouldn't get fucked if she was the last woman earth. Daken himself would rather do the rotting corpse of the last sheep on earth than fatty over there and he's never been one for bestiality or necrophilia.

Excelling in his part as the concerned and human citizen, he shakes the man's hand and smiles. "Oh, I almost forgot. Remember to state that you're part of the FOH when the news crews ask. My boss considers this a requirement."

The man nods as vigorously as Thunder Thighs blushes behind him. What a fucking lazy, disgusting pile of blubber! Romulus would have beaten the fat off him if he had ever allowed himself to get to that state. He winks at fatso and her face flushes like she's just managed to walk three steps in a row. Only when he turns his back on them both does he allow his smile to drop.

...


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to their rightful owners (not me) I am not making any profit off this story.

**Characters:** Daken/Kitty Pryde/Assorted extras

**Timeline:** No strict timeline. Set after DW#82. Anyone can pop up anywhere.

**Rating:** Adult

**Warnings:** Anything can happen

**Length:** Multi

**Archiving:** Yes but please credit, paste the story in full including disclaimers and authors notes and please tell me where.

_..._

_Jackpot_

_Chapter Four_

...

"Thank you, Mike. This is Marlena Delaney with New Future news. We're here in down-town New York where moments ago a Friends Of Humanity rally turned into a deadly riot..."

The media always like to over dramatise things but to be fair it is utter carnage and Daken is quite proud of himself. What is simply a means to an end for him has become one of the most chaotic FOH rallies of the decade. That they are not actually FOH members is a minor detail he doesn't dwell on. It's a job well done in the end.

"So far, we're getting reports that there have been six fatalities and at least thirteen wounded including CNN news reporter, Jim Daley...,"

Aww, and to think, it was all going perfectly fine until the muties jumped in.

"Mutant scum! Kill them all!" A roly poly soccer mom screeches. Honestly, if these people devoted as much time to fighting as they did to eating, they would probably rule the world one day.

Daken laughs at her statement, easily heard even from his viewpoint in the alley across the road. He is of a higher breed than she will ever be. If mutants will be the cattle then humans will be the ants he steps on without even realising.

"We're being told that the Fantastic Four have been notified and that the Avengers...,"

Marlena cuts off and stares overhead with a dumb look. Daken follows her gaze and makes out the outline of wings high up in the sky. He narrows his eyes and focuses his gaze and then he can see more clearly than anyone. The dark shape looms closer, casting a shadow over all the people directly under its vicinity.

Marlena tries to save both her notes and her hairstyle as the bird man whips up a gale with the force of his wings and then he's off, swooping over their heads and right into the heart of the battle. His landing triggers an explosion of colour and mutants in brightly coloured costumes storm in from every angle. East, west, front, back, up and under. They are quite literally everywhere.

Marlena finds her feet. "The X Men, a well known vigilante group, have just joined the battle. They were responsible for at least seventy thousand dollars worth of damage during the Mutant Pride Rally last fall...,"

He smells his father before he sees him, and when he spots him he is wading into battle with closed fists and clawless hands. There's the familiar tug of apprehension and utter hatred that Daken always feels when he sees the old man but Daken lets it go for tonight.

Katherine is around here somewhere. Even if he can't see her, he can smell her and that alone answers the question that has been permeating his brain.

"Ya'll gonna be sorry you did that," says a stripe haired mutant as she single handedly picks up an empty camper van and aims it at a mutant whose skin appears to be smooth and solid stone. Varying shades of green spandex cling to generous curves but the only anticipation Daken feels is for the fight.

"You're either with us or against us!" Stone face snarls. His opponent grins and pitches the van towards him as though she's throwing a baseball.

Daken leaves them to it and searches for Katherine amongst the brightly coloured concoction of superheroes. Her scent is weak from this distance and that makes it harder to track, or maybe he is wrong. Maybe he's just picking up residual from his father and Katherine was never in this fight to begin with.

Just as he decides that it was all a complete waste of time, a small figure pirouettes into a group of thugs over the other side of the road. Every now and then when the mass of fighting bodies clears from in front of him, Daken gets a glimpse of her, evading blows on her tip toes and delivering spinning kicks that seem far too graceful to really do much damage to her opponents. They all fall down though.

After a few moments of fighting and Daken trying to see more, Katherine gets pegged by a lucky shot. She goes down like a sack of potatoes as a blast of heat hits her square in the shoulder. For a moment, she stays there and the thug who got one off on her turns tail and runs as her surrounding team mates rush to her aid. They pull her into her feet and after a muttered conversation which even Daken can't hear, she dusts herself off and begins to give chase.

He follows, careful to stay on his side of the road until he's far enough away from the crowd. Then he cuts through the spectators and news crews and inhales deeply until he picks up a new direction. His route brings him to a dead end and straight to Katherine who has two men cornered.

"Don't you think you've done enough damage," she asks, shoulder twitching.

The men look slightly startled and one is bleeding from his lip. There are signs of a scuffle in the way of turned over garbage cans and broken crate boxes. "Why are you fighting us when they started it?"

She shakes her head. "Because this doesn't help anybody. It just makes them hate us more," she says softly. She pulls her shoulders back and takes a deep breath.

"Now, I've had enough of fighting for tonight so this is what is going to happen. I'm gonna go stand over by this box," she says cheerfully. "And you are both going to walk right past me and go home."

"And if we don't?"

Katherine's impatience is clear even behind her mask. She sighs deeply. "If you don't, well, first I'm going to kick both of your butts and then I'm going to drag you over to the authorities by the scruff of your necks and you can both watch the rest of the fight from a jail cell. Your choice?"

After a moments pause and a long look between them, they cautiously slink away. Katherine keeps her word. She watches them both go as a precautionary eye flickers between them. Daken isn't impressed. The people he acquaints himself with don't talk themselves out of a fight. They go all out whether their guts are hanging on the floor or whether their opponent is begging mercy because he has three kids and a wife at home. What is the point of starting a fucking fight if you're not going to finish it?

After she's sure they have left, she groans loudly to herself and drops down onto a stack of wooden crates. Her shoulders slump pathetically.

"Join the X Men... she mutters sarcastically. Daken can smell the blood and singed flesh of her wounded shoulder, enough to determine that it's deep, if not severe. "...see the world. Fight for good. Bleed into garbage."

After peeling off her mask, she begins picking the material from her damaged shoulder, inhaling sharply whenever she hits a painful spot. Her costume is dark blue in colour and tight fitting enough to emphasise a lack of curves. Dainty is the first word that comes to Daken's mind.

"No pain no pain," he hears her mumble unconvincingly between staccato breaths. She presses her gloved palm against her shoulder and then she sighs; a deep, weary sigh that draws Daken out of his hiding place and walking towards her without considering why.

He makes sure to keep his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slightly slumped. One of the first things Romulus ever taught him was how to lie and not just lie but how to lie and get away with it. His posture right now is an off shot of that lesson and it's one he is well practised at. It's important to appear non-threatening.

Katherine sees through it straight away. The look she gives him as she notices his approach is a hybrid of fear and shock. It's the instinctive response of a wounded animal being confronted by a predator.

She_ knows_ what he is, even if she doesn't know how she knows it.

."What are you doing here?" she says, dampening down the fear with anger as she remembers their last meeting.

He shrugs, hands still in pockets. "My apartment isn't far from here. I was just heading over to the store when I heard about the fight."

She regards him with some scepticism but takes the tissue he offers he. He holds back a smile as she sniffs it discreetly before pressing it to her shoulder and tying her belt around it to hold it in place. She appears to have been trained well enough, no doubt his father's doing. Daken's heard how he lost one of his women to a poisoned blow dart or whatever. Figures he'd train his little girls to be wary.

Daken has never been one for poisons though he can and will use them as a last resort. Part of him despises the Shinobi method of stabbing them in the back. He might as well write a sign on his forehead saying, "_I'm afraid to face you."_ It's not his preferred method of execution. He likes to look his opponents in the eye as they are dying.

Katherine is still fussing with her shoulder and ignoring his presence in a way that suggests she wasn't raised with manners. He sits down beside her, nudging her over with his hip when she doesn't make room for him. "So," he says, after a slight pause. "You're a member of the almighty X Men."

He tries for over-awed. It comes off bewildered.

"No, I'm with the Fuse Amateur Dramatics Group." She reads the name off a sign across from them. "Method acting, you see. It's the future."

"There's no need to be sarcastic about it." Daken waits for her reply and when she doesn't give one he presses forward. "That surprises me a little, you being an X Man."

"Why?" she asks, a daring edge to her tone.

She's clearly offended by him questioning her abilities. Offended to the point that he thinks she might have heard it many times before. He wants to antagonise her a little further, get her really steamed up and see what she does with it but on the other hand, he's seen what will happen if he pushes her too far.

"Because you're so small."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "And that matters? Ever heard of superpowers...or skill for that matter?"

He stares at her long enough to make her shift uncomfortably. At the point before he thinks she might get up and run away from him, he picks up her hand and pulls off her glove. Her knuckles are bruised and bloody underneath and he half expects her to pull away from his touch but she just watches him curiously as he runs his fingers over them. The top skin is softer than the underside of her palm. If he squeezed just a little tighter he knows the bones would shatter like a baby bird.

"You're a mutant, aren't you?" She whispers, voice a little rough. He searches for an attraction, a sign that she's enjoying the feel of his skin on hers. All he finds is...understanding, and the tiniest thread of comfort from his touch. Daken doesn't need to be understood and he certainly does not desire to be a comfort to anyone. He jerks away.

"It's okay," she says hurriedly, reaching out to him before thinking twice about it and letting her hand drop. "I mean, I won't tell anybody about it. It's just, there are people who understand, you know. There are others like you. You don't have to be alone."

It takes him a moment to realise that she's trying to recruit him. He doesn't know exactly what for. Her cause, her ideals, her team. It could be any of those things but all of them make him laugh. She looks confused for a moment and quickly drops the subject with a muttered. "As long as you know that."

He tries to remember what he was doing at her age which is hard because he's not exactly sure how old she is. S.H.I.E.L.D don't recruit anyone under the age of eighteen so she has to be at least that though she could probably pass for a little younger at a push.

What was he doing at eighteen? It takes him a minute to remember. Rifling through sixty four years worth of memories isn't an easy task. He's lived a very busy life. There is a shade of a memory of his eighteenth birthday. Champagne and blood on his hands. Romulus had offered to buy him a woman from the Russians who had set up shop down by the docks and told him about the time he kept a Ukrainian girl as a pet until he cut her throat because she'd pissed herself on his antique rug. _Three thousand pounds down the toilet because some backwards cunt from some backwards country cant hold her bladder. _

He can still hear his voice as clear as day.

"_Thanks for the offer but no,_" Daken had told him. "_I like my carpets."_

"It must be a tough job," He tells Katherine and there's a catch in his throat that he didn't plan but is glad for anyway. It makes him sound sincere.

She leans her head back against the wall and dangles her legs off the edge of the crates not quite tall enough to reach the bottom. With one deep breath, she tells the stars. "Yeah, but someone's gotta do it."

Well, that's a fucking cliché if he's ever heard one.

"Why you?"

She stares at him confused for a moment as if the answer should be obvious but when she opens her mouth, nothing comes out and her confusion turns inward. He wonders if she's ever stopped and asked herself the same question. After a second of watching her doing the dying fish, mouth opening and closing as she tries to formulate an answer, he rescues her from her existential crisis.

"Would you like to get something to eat?" He asks her and is bothered when she shakes her head.

"I can't. My team will be looking for me. Actually, I should be getting back." She stands and then winces against a particularly painful movement. Digging in her pockets, she palms two white pills, and tips them down her throat.

"You'll feel worse in the morning," he warns, though he has little personal experience on the matter. Pain relief runs through his blood.

"It'll get me home tonight," she says, giving him a wan smile. "Maybe I'll see you around, Daken."

Her voice dips playfully on his name and he smiles. "Oh, I don't doubt it, _Kitty_."

In fact, he knows quite well that he will be seeing her again and it will be a lot sooner than she thinks.

...


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to their rightful owners (not me) I am not making any profit off this story.

**Characters:** Daken/Kitty Pryde/Assorted extras

**Timeline:** No strict timeline. Set after DW#82. Anyone can pop up anywhere.

**Rating:** Adult

**Warnings:** Anything can happen

**Length:** Multi

**Archiving:** Yes but please credit, paste the story in full including disclaimers and authors notes and please tell me where.

…_..._

_Jackpot_

_Chapter Five_

…_..._

"So, what's your power?"

They are back at the tea-house and it is three weeks since Daken's stunning FOH fiasco. Katherine is leaning across the table with her arms folded beneath her. A perfect contradiction between laziness and curiosity. It's the most obvious question and yet still one that Daken isn't prepared for.

He takes a sip of his tea to bide his time. He can't tell her the truth because she is certainly smart enough to make that connection and he knows an outright lie could trip him up when he least desires it to. Eventually he leans forward and gives her a wicked grin. "I can make people fall in love with me."

It's only a half lie when you think about it.

She pulls back slightly and her brow furrows. "Really?"

He isn't sure whether he should be amused or offended at her surprise so he settles for not giving it a second thought. He answers with a smirk and an eye roll. "Yes, really."

An apologetic smile breaks up her expression as she shrugs and picks up her cup. "Well, I guess that could be kinda useful." Her hand pauses before she takes a sip and she smiles and gives a silly little giggle. "You could actually force your enemies to make love, not war."

And he has to genuinely laugh at that because if there's anything he enjoys more than making love, it's making war. There's a slight pause and a hint of a blush from Katherine as she considers the implication of her words. Daken pegs her straight away as a virgin. He'll be extremely surprised if she's been touched by herself never mind a man.

"And you?" he asks.

There's next to no information about Logan's 'kids'. Even the little girl in Tokyo is considered a myth by many. Daken knows the truth but he's not going to waste his time going after a child who his father only sees twice a year, if that. Not whilst she's still under Yashida protection at least. He thinks about the millions daddy has probably spent wiping his kids off the grid and how he just happened to stumble across one in a two bit tea house of all places. Good fortune smiles on him.

The momentary hesitation is an instinctive reaction, he thinks. _Never show your hand. _The first lesson of any fighter, however big or small. It was the children in the yard who taught him that one, back when he was small and weak and the only weapon he possessed was his rage.

He leans towards her again, finding her eyes as she tries to look away from him. "I showed you mine," he says in a melodic tone that makes him sound boyish.

"You told me, you didn't show me," she replies and then adds on quickly, "Not that I'd want you too." There's another blush and Daken grimaces inwardly. He can imagine her to be an awful fuck; all nervy and jittery.

After her attempts to change the subject fall flat, she sighs and finally gives in. "It's kinda hard to explain but effectively I can make myself and other objects intangible. Like walk through walls and stuff. I call it phasing."

Daken remembers a time when his adoptive parents wouldn't allow him to attend a town festival so he snuck out only to find that it was a pile of shit anyway. When he returned, Akihira leathered him with a metre of rope and all Daken could think was "_What a waste of time and for nothing!_"

He's already annoyed that it took so long for her to give in and tell him. Give and take, isn't that what people like? An illusion at equality, that we're all in this together and other such bullshit but he bites back his irritation and says "That sounds interesting."

Katherine tilts her head and smirks at him knowingly. "By interesting you mean boring as hell right?"

Well, she said it.

"You would make a very good bank robber," he offers.

She bites her lip in faux consideration. "You know, I've_ never _thought of that before." Her voice trails off sarcastically. He wants to punch her in the mouth whenever she takes that tone with him. He thinks about Karla, who is the only other 'phaser' he knows, though she refers to her power as ghosting instead. She rarely employs it in a fight and with good cause since it renders her ability to actually engage in combat pretty much non existent.

Katherine is studying her cup, fingers dancing over the lotus flower pattern. Her natural expression is pouty and petulant though there is a curve to the corner of her lips that offsets any sourness. Her face, in its unforced state, is a true reflection of the human consciousness. Hopeful and unsatisfied.

Daken feels disappointed in himself for ever expecting anything _more. _

Katherine, perhaps picking up on his disillusionment, mutters "I told you it was lame," and returns to sipping tea.

"Would you like some sake?" Daken gestures the waitress over without even waiting for her answer and orders two bottles of warm sake.

Katherine shakes her head and holds up a palm as Daken tries to convince her to drink. "No, it's okay, really. I should be getting back soon."

"Just one," Daken urges.

Her eyes flicker between his face and the cup before she extends her hand. "One," she says firmly and tips the sake down her throat. She reaches back for her jacket and begins pulling it on. Daken sucks air through his teeth and leans back, annoyance setting in. She's not going anywhere. He's not even close to being done with her yet.

"Is it your parents you're worried about?"

She pauses, palms flat against the table, and shakes her head. A bitter smile twists her features. "No, I doubt they even know what country I'm in never mind what time I'm coming home."

Daken gives her a wolfish grin. "A boyfriend then?"

She rolls her eyes at him as though she has any idea of what game he's playing. "No, not a boyfriend." She bites her lip and exhales through her nose impatiently. "You know what I do. Coming home late could mean a lot of things for us. The others start to worry after a while."

"So text them. Call them. Whatever." He leans across the table and holds his breath against the overpowering stench of discount store perfume. He's going to have to do something about that, pick up some Chanel next time he goes shopping. "Let them worry about saving the world for a while. Stay here and have fun with me." He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Katherine stares at him unblinking. "Logan told me not to."

His father's name is like ice cold water down his back. He jerks away from her and settles back in his chair as the sudden shift in conversation sinks in. It's not surprising really, that his father would notice her coming home reeking of his scent. Perhaps Daken has gotten a little complacent in thinking that his daddy will give anything to win him over.

He takes a moment to regain his composure. "Did he?" Both his tone and expression are sardonic.

Katherine sits back in her chair and folds her arms, mirroring his position. She tries to look tough but Daken can sense the wariness coming off her in waves. "He did. I'm supposed to get away from you and call him if you approach me."

"But you didn't," Daken likes that little piece of knowledge the second he realises it. "Why?"

She shrugs and he gets the sense that she isn't too sure herself. "I guess I was just curious. To be honest, I don't see what all the fuss is about. Whoever you are, I'm pretty sure Logan could take you."

Daken snarls a laugh at her dirty look and nasty little smirk. She's deliberately trying to provoke him now, naughty girl. Looks like someone has been holding back on him.

He sips his sake slowly and lets his expression fall. She stares at him curiously but still unafraid and it irritates him to the high heavens that she is_ that_ stupid. "And what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Logan?"

The corner of her mouth lifts in a well practised assessment of the question. "He's helped me through some rough times, taken care of me." Her voice turns emotionally as she tunes out from Daken and tunes into her memories.

Daken coughs sarcastically as she proceeds with a rambling example of how wonderful his father is. It's sickening how she stops and glares at him for even daring to interrupt her moment of worship. She shakes her head and pushes away from the table. "The most important thing, is that I trust Logan and if he tells me that someone isn't worth the time of day, then I listen. Goodbye, Daken. Have a nice life."

He grabs for her hand, slipping slowly back into his seat as his fingers connect with air and people turn to look at them. As he watches her walk away he fumes inwardly at his father and mutters bland apologies to the people around him for causing a scene. Logan is a sneaky little bastard but this isn't how this ends. This is never how it ends for him, fucking bitch!

It is about time him and daddy dearest had a little chat.

...

It is said that a mother's love can heal all wounds. Daken wouldn't know. That knowledge was stolen from him while he was still in the womb. His adoptive mother was always very cold and foolish. She beat rats with brushes and spoke far too loudly and openly for a woman. He knew, even before he was old enough to understand what 'half-breed' meant, that he could not have come from such a woman.

All he has of his true mother is what he sees when he looks in the mirror. Romulus told him she was perfect. Perfect beauty, perfect nature. _Even when she lay bleeding_, he said, _she was still the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. _

Romulus was a liar about many things but Daken only has to look in the mirror to know that he was telling the truth about that. He catches his reflection in the window next to him, distorted by the glass and rain, and pulls the image of his mother from his mind. They share the same high cheekbones and lazy expressions. He has her full lips and blank, liquid eyes that only come to life when something sparks their interest. When they smile, their whole face comes alive.

His skin tone is a shade lighter, diluted by Gaijin blood and his smile is promising in an entirely different way than hers. His nose is his father's; straighter and not as wide at the bridge and he shows his distaste with the same slight puckering of the lips.

Under the skin, he is Romulus and nothing else.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thanks, darlin'."

The conversation jerks Daken away from his daydreaming and he curls his lip as the waitress practically creams her panties at the lazy wink his father throws her way. What they all see in him he will never know.

"So, you wanted to talk, kid."

The cheap polyester seats feel cold on Daken's back as he settles in amongst them in a clear sign of disrespect._ I can relax,_ he is saying. _To me you aren't even worth worrying about._ He can smell rat shit and dead mouse coming from the kitchen so he hasn't ordered anything to eat. It appears his father is less particular about his food and he bites into a burger, garnished with maybe a dead beetle or two.

"Katherine told me that you warned her away from me."

His father merely raises an eyebrow. He knows exactly why he's here. "Kid's special to me. I'm not going to let you take a hit at her to get to me."

"Are you fucking her?"

Logan blanches at the question and, to his credit, looks thoroughly disgusted. He puts down his burger slowly, stalling for time while he tries to think of a way to warn Daken off without turning him away. "She's my little girl."

"But not biologically?" It's a possibility he has considered. It wouldn't surprise him if Logan had another handful of kids scattered all over the world. Either way it wouldn't matter. Daken has never been one to subscribe to the ideals of society.

"No, not biologically...but in every way that counts."

Daken is quiet for a moment. He knows, even without wiring into his father's emotions, that the old man is on the level. "She didn't listen to you," he smirks.

Logan shrugs. "Never does." There is no bitterness. Only reflection and proud, sickening love, like Daken imagines a mother bird would feel after pushing her chick out of the nest and seeing it fly.

He watches his father eat and he knows it bugs the man. Logan doesn't like attention. He's far too used to attracting the wrong kind. Daken tries, through simple curiosity, to imagine him with Katherine, wonders if he's this wary and tense around her and then laughs at the idea.

"I think...," he says with a dramatic pause, "...that Katherine will just do what she wants anyway."

Putting down his half eaten burger, Logan gives him a stare that most would find intimidating. Not him though. Eventually, the old man shrugs and resumes eating. "It's a waste of time, son." He seems almost sympathetic. "Kitty's been doin' this most of her life. She's smart. She'll see right through you."

His certainty irks. Daken snarls low in his throat. "And you'll protect her, right?"

Logan looks at him hard and when he gets no reaction, he drains his beer and gestures the waitress over to take payment. Shrugging on a jacket that smells of motor oil and cigar smoke, he smiles down at Daken who is still sitting at the table, stirring the coffee that he wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole.

"Goes without sayin' that I'll protect her and I'd do the same for any of the people I care about but Kitty can take care of herself. Girl always lands on her feet." He pulls an envelope from his pocket and holds it out to Daken. "She asked me to give you this."

He seems almost apologetic. When Daken doesn't take it, he drops it onto the table and leaves. Daken waits until he's out the door and checks that he's not peering through any windows before opening it. It is a small note written on a letter set so pink and cheerful that he checks to make sure that no-one can see him with it. Daken has received many love letters in his life time. From long poems to post it notes on the refrigerator door. _I love you so much, baby _or_ You make me so happy :) _and _Can't wait to fuck! :P_

He's seen, heard and read it all. Or at least he thought he had.

_I think it's best if we don't meet up anymore. You can have the tea house. Love Kitty. XOXO_

_..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to their rightful owners (not me) I am not making any profit off this story.

**Characters:** Daken/Kitty Pryde/Assorted extras

**Timeline:** No strict timeline. Set after DW#82. Anyone can pop up anywhere.

**Rating:** Adult

**Warnings:** Anything can happen

**Length:** Multi

**Archiving:** Yes but please credit, paste the story in full including disclaimers and authors notes and please tell me where.

...

Jackpot

Chapter Six

…

_The less we use our power, the greater it will be._ It was Thomas Jefferson who said that and one of the reasons why Romulus despised the man.

_What is the point of power if you don't use it? _He would say, unbuckling his belt. Daken still wakes sometimes with the too familiar snap of leather and metal ringing in his ears. You could read Romulus's hatred of Thomas Jefferson on Daken's bare back. Well, for as long as the scars lasted at least. After Daken had passed out and regained consciousness a few times, Romulus would carry him to the bathtub and wash away the blood. _"Do you fear me, boy?"_

It always felt like a trick question.

"_Of course you do,"_ he would murmur._ "Much more than you would if I stroked your hair and kissed your forehead." _Then he would take Daken's face in his hands and lay the softest of kisses on his lips. _"Fear is crippling. It renders a man incapable and an incapable man cannot fight you." _ Face down on the mattress, terror squirming like worms in his stomach, Daken had felt Romulus's words as much as he had heard them.

"_That is power." _

…..

Daken reads the letter twenty three times before he finally forces himself to tear it into pieces and burns it since he wouldn't put it past Osborne to root through his trash. What the hell is_ XOXO_ when it's at home? And what the fuck does she mean by _love Kitty_? Is he supposed to take that literally or what? Why would she even mention love if she never wanted to see him again?

Why does he even care?

The answer which comes to him a second later makes him feel foolish. He cares because he's not done with her yet. She still has some use to him. That he doesn't know exactly how he's going to use her isn't important. The best laid plans _succeed. _He covers his face with his palms and inhales a lingering scent of vanilla and orchids. The superficial scent isn't unique and is probably shared by a number of girls and women who believe the marketing hype but the undertones and base notes are as singular as fingerprints.

It is Katherine's scent and there is no other like it and since the fragrance is so strong and he already has her base notes catalogued in his brain, finding her will be a piece of piss.

And it is!

It only takes his senses and a little detective work to track her down. He finds her in a boutique in Manhattan. The clothing is cheap, bland and still has the stink of China-or whatever back end country it was shipped in from-all over it. There is rap blaring from the speakers and day glow wigs on offer in an attempt to make it trendy. Daken hates modern music. The only thing hip hop is good for is dry fucking in a club. As an art form it is an utter failure.

Katherine holds up a dress that just screams 'do me hard and I'll like it'. Her little nose wrinkles distastefully and she drops it back onto the rail as quickly as she would a handful of hot coals. Her cellphone is perched between her neck and her ear and she laughs at a comment that Daken can't hear over the blaring music.

"Okay," she answers. "Well, I've been looking all day and I still can't find anything. Do you think it would be really awful if I just didn't go?"

She winces at the reply. "I know, I know. Well, I guess I better get back to work then. See you later."

He's standing behind her when she turns and she steps back with a smothered gasp. "What...what the hell are you doing here?"

"Me?" He rifles through one of the rails. "Oh nothing. Just browsing."

He doesn't even have to look at her to know that her lips will be pursed in annoyance. Her arms will be folded. Her expression will be one of barely restrained anger. He could carve her out of clay she's that easy to read. Her eyes are narrowed suspiciously. "This is a ladies shop."

Daken looks around and murmurs an agreement. "I'm buying a gift for one of my girlfriends." He grabs the first thing to hand; a black leather basque and nods. Lucky pick! That seems like the kind of thing one of his girlfriends would wear.

If he believed in girlfriends, of course.

He checks the label on a slinky top. The material feels like toilet paper between his fingers. Disgusting. "It seems to be my lucky day. I could use a female eye. Do you think she would like this?" He asks, holding it directly in front of her face.

"Only if she's a massive slut," Katherine mutters.

Daken grins. He simply adores pretentious little brats who don't believe in enjoying sex. They always cum for him the hardest.

"She's a very naughty girl." He really does try to reign in the wolfish grin but ends up giving in to his genuine amusement. Katherine rolls her eyes and stalks off towards the dressing rooms.

He moves in front of her so quickly that she has to rock back on her heels to stop them colliding in to each other.

"Get out of my way!" She hisses.

When he doesn't move, she shakes her head and sidesteps past him. "Didn't you get my letter? You know, I tried to be polite but let me offer you a translation. Leave - me - alone."

He moves in front of her again and she folds her arms impatiently, breathing sharply through her nose.

"You're being rude." He says.

"You're being obnoxious!" She puts on a smile for a nosy sales girl who is paying them far too much attention. While Daken's attention is focused on the voyeur, Katherine shoulders past him and into an empty fitting room, letting out a sputtered protest as he follows her in. She draws the curtain around them sharply and drops onto the bench. "Fine. I guess we're going to have this discussion. Here...of all places."

Daken matches her sarcasm with a smile. "It's not very nice to lead people on."

"Lead-what?" Her dumbfounded expression has him biting back a laugh. "How did I lead you on? What are you talking about?"

"I thought we were friends."

She glares at him. "Friends? We talked like, two or three times."

Daken feels a stab of confusion as he tries to work through her thought process. "Isn't that what friends do-talk and listen to each other?"

It's never been hard for him to make 'friends' before. Between his pheromones, his mother's looks and the manners that Romulus beat into him since childhood, he has charm and charisma by the bucket load. If he wanted to, he could walk down Fifth Avenue and walk back with a hundred real honest to god friends who would listen to him complain and lay down their lives for him.

If he wanted to.

Katherine isn't like him. He could tell that from the get go. When she smiles at a waitress, it is a genuine gesture of thanks and Daken sees how they respond in kind. Katherine is the kind of girl who makes friends easily and smiles with no ulterior motive behind it. Two or three times should be enough for her.

"I'm not your friend, Daken," she says almost apologetically though her eyes are still alight with anger. "I won't be your friend."

Why is _she_ rejecting _him_?

He is silent for a moment as he figures out his next step. He is sixty five years old. This isn't the first time that a woman has turned him down or a mark has gone off the plan and surprised him but Katherine in particular angers him and he has to get that under control before he proceeds.

She waits for him to respond before finally standing up and gently urging him out of the dressing room. When he stands his ground, she starts shoving but to no end. He has a significant strength advantage over her.

"Fine," she huffs with exaggerated breathlessness. "You stay. I'll go."

He makes a grab for her hand but his fingers sink through her skin until he's holding air. It is in that moment that he realises exactly what her power means and how it hinders his ability to make her do anything she doesn't want to do. He sends a spike of calming pheromones her way but her fierce expression doesn't waver.

_Untouchable._

_Uncontrollable._

He remembers laughing at that 'silly' little power

"Logan told me all about you. He told me that you can't be trusted. You're immoral, irrational, _sick_."

He is really going to enjoy making the old man pay for that when they next meet up. "That's nonsense," He snaps. "I'm not irrational and I'm not sick. There's nothing wrong with me."

Katherine's smile is all twisted and proud. She knows she's touched a nerve. "No, it's completely normal to follow a girl around and freak her out by acting like a stalker."

He waves his hand over her stomach. Still phased. "I didn't mean to freak you out." He murmurs as he thinks about what he has left in his arsenal that might actually work. Sex is his favoured form of manipulation but without a pheromone push and taking into account Katherine's piousness and obedience towards daddy dearest, it would take more time than he cares to invest to warm her up to the_ idea_ never mind the act itself.

"Yeah, well. You did. So feel free to remedy that by leaving."

Her sarcasm is really beginning to grate on his fucking nerves. It's probably a good thing she's incorporeal at the moment because he is fit to bash her brains in with the next bitter quip that comes from her mouth.

"You have a very bad attitude for a young lady."

She barks a mocking little laugh. "God, you sound like my grandpa. When will you get it through your thick skull. I don't care what you think or who you are. I want you to leave me alone."

She wasn't this mouthy when he first met her. He thinks back. She was nice, if a little wary. Friendly, if a little guarded. Curious...

Daken feels the corner of his mouth draw up in a smile. "So, Logan told you _everything_ about me, did he?"

She blinks slowly and her silence is confused and suspicious, picking up on the enticement in his voice straight away. He admires that. People don't pay enough attention to their instincts these days.

"Yes," she says slowly, unsure of the commitment she wants to put behind it.

"Including who I am, I suppose?"

The look on her face says it all. She clenches her jaw and Daken laughs. He tosses her purse at her and she catches in one handed. Quick reflexes. He likes that.

"I have an apartment in Manhattan. We'll pick up lunch on the way."

"You must think I'm crazy if you seriously believe I'm gonna leave with you."

Daken grits his teeth and feels like a god bowing to a peasant when he says "How could I possibly harm you?" The truth has a very bitter taste to it. "Besides, don't you want to find out Logan's dirty little secret? It's a good one. You really won't believe your ears."

He doesn't even turn back to see if she's following him. He knows he's got her.

…

Daken's apartment in nestled in the trendy streets of Manhattan. It's expensive to keep but he likes having a place he can go that nobody knows about. He insists on picking up Japanese on the way.

"Are you sure you don't want anything? Their sushi is exceptional."

Katherine curls her lip distatefully. "No. And I don't like sushi."

_Freak._ Who doesn't like sushi?

He raises an eyebrow. "Really? And you lived in Japan? You must be the first person I've met who...,"

"I don't like fish," She spits impatiently as Daken's mouth is still forming around the rest of his sentence.

How rude!

"I'm sure they don't like you either, little miss manners," He mutters back as she's marching off towards the door. If she hears him, she doesn't let on.

"Is your apartment far?"

The cashier gives Daken a certain look, man to man. "Well, she seems like a bundle of fun," he chuckles.

Daken can only wonder why this vermin feels he has any right to look down on the girl. The thought makes him pause.

"No, it's not far." He ignores the cashier and slides the boxes off the counter, holding out his hand to Katherine which she sneers at and silently refuses to take. Daken shrugs. She'll happily be holding more than his hand after he gets through with her.

A _whole_ lot more.

...


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to their rightful owners (not me) I am not making any profit off this story.

**Characters:** Daken/Kitty Pryde/Assorted extras

**Timeline:** No strict timeline. Set after DW#82. Anyone can pop up anywhere.

**Rating:** Adult

**Warnings:** Anything can happen

**Length:** Multi

**Archiving:** Yes but please credit, paste the story in full including disclaimers and authors notes and please tell me where.

* * *

**Jackpot:**

_Chapter Seven_

* * *

His apartment is probably what people would expect of him. Clean, organised and filled with beautiful objects that are both useless and unnecessary. One of which is leaning against the door, glaring at him as he rummages through the cupboard for soy sauce.

"It cost me a pretty penny but it's quite a nice place. I paid the mortgage flat out," he tells her, continuing the steady chatter he started on the way over. It has been entirely one sided and as impossible as wringing blood from a stone but Daken notices the annoyed flare of her nostrils and the tension at the corner of her mouth so it is well worth it overall.

"Do you cook?" Chopped peppers go into the pan. Organic and bought yesterday. He's quite fussy about his food and god knows there's nothing in the cupboards but Cheetos and pancake mix at the Tower.

She ignores him.

"Most girls today refuse to cook, or even learn. They think it's cute that they can't feed themselves."

She rolls her eyes. "Why even buy food if you're just going to cook something anyway?"

He stirs and inhales. The smell reminds him of missions in Hong Kong, the very place he picked up this recipe. "I like their noodles. My favourite dish to make is pepp-"

"Can we just get on with this? I'm not really interested in your cooking stories."

He catches his lip between his teeth. She is _really_ going to have to get out of the habit of cutting him off.

"Fine."

Her mouth quirks a little at the corner as she picks up on his annoyance. As he sits and starts eating he notices her casing the place, eyes flickering curiously over everything he owns. Her eyes are the darkest brown he has ever seen. So dark that sometimes they look like black pools of liquid, taking everything in and letting nothing out. It is her mouth and her smile and the way her face falls slightly when she is upset that gives away her youth and naivety.

Those eyes, though. Those eyes are old and wise. Clever and cold, and completely at odds with everything he knows about her. They remind him of the old clan leaders and mysterious martial artists of his youth.

"Hello? Earth calling, how do you know Logan," she snaps, dragging him out of his reverie.

He coughs and wipes his mouth with a napkin order to cover for having been caught daydreaming by her.

"Would you like to watch the TV?" he asks pleasantly as he nestles in amongst plush cushions. He beckons her towards a seat with the remote control but she stays as she is. "I have all the channels. Movies, Discovery..."

He might as well be talking to to the wall.

"Disney?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

Still no answer.

"Playboy?" He suggests with a grin. That one gets him an eye roll and a muttered '_pig'_ under her breath.

Katherine sighs and Daken can almost feel her exhaustion.

It' is a moment of real world weariness that a girl her age should never feel. A sign of having lived too long and done too much. It is intriguing to say the least.

"Can we please just get this over with?" She asks and Daken knows he can't push any further.

"You won't like it," He says honestly. All mirth and teasing is gone. After a dramatic pause, he gives it to her swift and straight.

Like an arrow aimed right at the heart.

"Logan is my father."

Her shoulders stiffen and she blinks. There is a tiny flicker in her eyes as she tries to regain her composure. This, Daken thinks, is what disillusionment looks like.

Betrayed, hurt, angry. Desperate denial. He waits for it.

"Bullshit," she whispers unconvincingly

_Bingo._

"It's the truth," he replies seriously.

Katherine bites her lip bitterly and Daken knows she won't argue. Underneath her goodness and agree-ability is a person who really doesn't like to be wrong. He can imagine her to have a hard time saying sorry.

"I thought he would have told you-," he adds cruelly, "-since you two are _apparently _so close."

She doesn't speak but he can pick out the exact moment his barb hits its mark. She shows her hand far too easily which is why it perplexes him so that he can't quite figure her out yet.

"That's it?" She asks blandly. A last desperate resort to pretend it doesn't matter.

Daken barks out a sick, scathing laugh. "You don't have to pretend with me, Katherine. We both know what he is. A _liar_. That will never change."

He leans forward, hands clasped and looks up at her through lowered eyelashes. "Look, I know it's a shock for you, lovely, but-,"

"A shock?" She stares at him disbelievingly. "A _shock_?"

Her sudden shift to anger excites him until she pushes off from the wall and turns her back.

"Wait," he launches himself at her. "I understand you."

"No," she shakes him off the second his fingertips graze her jacket sleeve. "You _don't_."

He moves in front of her and glides backwards on his toes, not giving her the chance to phase through him. "Don't I? He let them kill my mother, kill _me_. If it wasn't for my healing factor, I would be dead. We both know what he is. He's a _failure_. He always was and always will be."

Her fist hits him square on the nose. A good solid punch that he almost didn't see coming. He thought he would have to push her harder before the fists flew.

"Don't talk about him like that," she whispers through gritted teeth and an undercurrent of utter shock that she actually clocked him one.

Daken lifts his hands to inspect the bloody mess. His nose is broken but quickly healing, two of his teeth feel a little loose. "I didn't expect you to be _that _quick." His words are muffled and gargled by the blood trickling down into the back of his throat.

He _needs_ to know her story. "Who made you what you are?"

"Who made _you _what _you_ are?" She throws back at him still seething and sick with loyalty.

"The best." He wipes his bloody nose on the back of his hand. "Now you answer."

She regards him blankly for one long moment. "Somebody better than that."

There is such an awful hit of fear as she speaks that Daken knows she isn't talking about Logan. Whatever image she sees in her mind at that moment is frightening.

She blinks the memories away and Daken doesn't push. Whatever demons she sees, she is not ready to face them yet.

"You know I'm right," he says. His voice is almost a whisper. "Something is missing, otherwise you wouldn't be here with me."

"You are out of your mind," she says, barking laughter giving the sentence a particularly nasty nip.

Daken doesn't care. He has been called worse.

She shakes her head, dumbfounded. "I'm not here _with_ you. I came here for answers. I'm not doing anything with you."

"Yet," he says with a smile and a shrug.

"Never," she snipes back. There is something quite appealing about how strongly she believes that.

He moves until he is standing over her. He dips his head, their noses almost touching, as she glares up at him using folded arms and every ounce of antipathy she can muster as a barrier between them.

"What is it, sweetheart?" He smiles cruelly. "Is he getting bored of you?"

"Is the whole daddy routine wearing off now that you're all-," his gaze slips to her feet and back again, "-grown up?"

Her fists curl at her sides and the tension is thick between them.

Daken's smile is sly and mocking. "He seems awfully close to that Chinese brat."

He moves away, apparently bored of the conversation, and returns to his cooking. Katherine is left stricken in the middle of his living room, desperately trying to formulate some neat little fantasy to keep her whole world on its axis.

Daken waits for one pathetic lie or another about how goodly and heroic his father is.

He really should have known better by now.

"What would you know?" Katherine whispers.

Daken's hand stills on the pan. "Excuse me?"

When she looks up at him, her gaze is fiery and emotional. "You heard me. Have you ever had any kind of real relationship in your life? Have you ever cared about someone, protected someone, _loved_ someone?"

Daken blinks quickly, the question having caught him off guard. It doesn't matter. Katherine doesn't leave time for him to reply.

"Have you ever stayed up all night with someone while they were sick? Put somebody else's life above your own? Or even got up at 6AM to drive somebody to a dance class?"

She finally pauses, looking Daken over with a sanctimonious grin on her proud little face.

"No, I bet you haven't," she sneers. "I bet you haven't got a clue how a real human being functions. So you can stand here and talk about Logan all you want but we both know that you, of all people, are in no position to lecture anyone about emotions."

And just in case those words weren't sharp enough; "The only person you care about is yourself. You aren't even _half_ the man that Logan is."

Daken feels the wood splinter around his fingers as his fist connects with the wall behind her head. The fact that she barely flinches only serves to make him angrier. "Who the _fucking _hell do you think you are?"

She smiles up at him with faux pleasantries and obvious mocking. "I'm Kitty, _fucking,_ Pryde- - and I'm out of here."

He knows even before reaching out to grab her that he will end up holding air. Doesn't stop him trying though.

...


End file.
